


The Fall of the Apple Tree

by FleurDespois



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 00:51:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15352581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleurDespois/pseuds/FleurDespois
Summary: It was to be a bright summer day. The rising sun was shining a little above the trees timberlines, bright in the cloudless pale-blue sky. Its warm light touched the threshold of Carus' house as he stepped out, ready to enjoy another day in the sweet realm of Narnia.How could he have known this beautiful, promising day was to be the beginning of Narnia's end?





	The Fall of the Apple Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! Today I'm in the mood for exprimenting so here's my first story in this fandom. I love the Chronicles of Narnia for a very long time and I like to think we can fill the blanks in the plot and help those wonderful characters staying alive through the time. This story is a first try at playing with this universe. 
> 
> Also English isn't my native language, so please forgive me the mistakes I may have introduced without notice. I proofreaded it but I'm not fluent enough to notice everything. Feel free to point me whatever error I let slip so I can fix it and improve.
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it!
> 
> Fleur

It was to be a bright summer day. The rising sun was shining a little above the trees timberlines, bright in the cloudless pale-blue sky. Its warm light touched the threshold of Carus' house as he stepped out, ready to enjoy another day in the sweet realm of Narnia. A gentle breeze swept his short curly black hair. The air smelt of flowering plants, dee and damp earth. The faun breathed deeply, stretching his arms as to embrace the new day.  
"Good morning, Carus!" a voice chirped.  
The faun raised his eyes to the lower branches of the nearby oak where Maybel, the sparrow, had her nest. The bird waved her wing as a greeting. He had helped her to build her home at the beginning of spring, giving her soft strands of wool and even some of his own hair, as birds loved it. Ever since, she had decided he was her protector and never lost an occasion to express her gratitude, showing herself to be the most amiable neighbour of this part of the woods.  
"Good morning!" the faun said in return. "What a lovely day we are going to have!"  
Maybel twitted.  
"I heard the centaurs saying a storm was coming from the North." she said. "You know they are never wrong."  
Carus looked at the clear sky. Centaurs’ foresight wasn't one to be disregarded. Yet it was hard to think any storm was on its way to ruin this peaceful day.  
"We'll see, then." he replied, quite circumspect.  
"Going to the Apple Tree?" Maybel moved on.  
She flew out of her nest to perch on the dog rose bush that flourished against the stone wall of his little cave.  
"As every morning." he corroborated.  
"May I come with you?"  
"Some company's never to be refused."  
The sparrow flapped her wings in delight and they both set off.  
It was a short stroll, actually, and not really a thrilling one. But it was a special one to Carus. As the Guardian of the Apple Tree, a distinction granted to his family by King Leon, son of King Franck the Founder in the first times of Narnia's existence, he went every day to check the well-being of the tree that protected his country.  
Even if most people in the realm had forgotten everything about the magical tree and the threat it kept at bay, Carus went on fulfilling faithfully his task, like his father had in his time, and his grandfather before him. They had told him extraordinary stories about it when he was still a little faun. How the tree came from a beautiful garden in the Wild West, one you could reach only by flying over hostile and icy countries on the back of beautiful winged horses. How it was planted by Aslan, the Great Lion, himself in the very first days that followed Narnia's Creation. How its magic could cure any disease and make someone live forever. How it stood there for more than a thousand years, becoming a little stronger, a little more powerful by every passing year.  
Carus found hard to believe half of those legends, yet he knew he would tell them to his own sons, when this time would come. Because it was a part of their story and a part of their task: never forgetting.  
Maybel was flying in front of him, merrily twirling around, her brown feathers almost unnoticeable against the trunks they passed by. The woods were slowly awakening as the rays of sunshine pierced the thick foliage, sprinkling golden patches on the shrubs and ferns' tufts underneath. Bees were already at work, buzzing here and there around a big silvery lime tree. Carus greeted a company of rabbits, hopping one after the other out of their hole, still half asleep.  
The path curved slightly to embrace a gradual elevation of the ground. Without notice, the sparrow disappeared in a thicket, most probably because she had caught glimpse of an appetizing caterpillar or a juicy worm. The faun kept up walking at his quiet pace.  
The way led to a small clearing bathed in sunshine. The curiosity of those woods stood in the middle of it: a high thin metallic rod, crowned by a lantern. According to the legend, it was as old as the Apple Tree and even more, apparently, but the flame had never dimmed through time. Night and day, the lantern shone. It had given its name to the land: the Lantern Waste. But no one knew any more why a lantern was needed in the middle of the woods.  
Carus crossed the clearing and took another path winding between rows of birch trees.  
Then he saw the Apple Tree.  
If there was kings amongst trees, it was truly one. Its trunk was so large Carus couldn’t seize it in one embrace. Its roots spread wide around it in the loose soil, mingling with those of the other trees around. And its lower branches were so high they brushed protectively the top of the nearby foliage. It was truly a wonder to behold. It was so strong, so ancient and so magic the faun always felt somehow better in its surroundings.  
But this bright day of summer, something was different. Something was wrong.  
Carus froze on the spot, legs shaking, unable to think. Distantly, he heard the flapping of wings, then a muffled gasp.  
“What is it? What’s happening?” There was a frenzy in Maybel’s voice.  
The faun’s own voice stayed knotted in his throat. Eventually, his body remembered how to walk. He came nearer to the tree, feeling like the clip-clop of his hooves or the hissing of his breathing could be heard by every single inhabitant in the realm.  
Carus put his shaking fingers on the rough bark of the tree. Thin black veins were running in the hollows of the trunk. It looked dark, dangerous, poisonous. And when the faun pressed his ear against the tree, he heard something like a low moan of pain and agony. He raised his eyes. The black thing had overrun half the trunk but the top of it seemed as healthy as usual. Was it a disease? Or worse?  
“We… We must tell someone.” he stuttered. “Something wrong is happening.”

***

“So?”  
The small gathering of the woods folk was hung onto the dryad’s every word. There was Valar, the centaur, a badger, two rabbits, a raven, Maybel, and Carus of course. Concern and impatience were on every face, though with different degrees.  
Valar the centaur had said the quickest way to know what was happening to the Apple Tree was to ask an expert in trees. There was no apple tree dryad in these woods, but a cherry tree dryad had accepted to examine it. And by the expression of her pale green face, the news weren’t good.  
Next to Valar, Carus couldn’t keep his eyes out of the dryad’s gesture. He knew something terrible was happening. The thought froze his very bones.  
Eventually, the dryad ended her examination and came to them. There was a slight flaw in her pace, nothing that disrupted her grace, but it revealed well enough she was upset.  
“Someone poisoned the tree.” she said gloomily. “But I don’t know what the poison is.” she went on before Valar could ask. “It’s spreading through the sap.”  
“Is there anything we can do to stop it?” Carus asked.  
The dryad made a face. “Hard to say.”  
Carus looked at the tree. He wasn’t sure he was imagining that the blackness had progressed since he had discovered it. As long as they would ignore what poison was used against the Apple Tree, they wouldn’t be able to cure it. And if the tree couldn’t be cured in time…  
“Please, Mr. Valar...”  
Carus turned his head and saw Maybel flying at eye level in front of the centaur.  
"Does it mean someone wants to harm us?" The bird asked with her high-pitched voice.  
A dark expression clouded the centaur's face. With a sigh, he opened his hand so the sparrow could perch on his fingers. Then he turned to the other members of their little assembly. Carus did too and saw the reflection of the fears and interrogations he had in his heart dancing in the faces of his neighbours.  
"I won't tell you lies, my friends." Valar sighed. "Azaviel here says that someone poisonned the Apple Tree. We all know that no true Narnian would ever do so. Then we must deduce someone harboured malicious intentions towards us."  
"Who, then?" the two rabbits asked in chorus.  
A heavy silence fell on the small group. All around them, the woods seemed as quiet as they usually were, dozing in the blissful heat of summer.  
The badger rose his paw as to ask for permission to speak.  
"The legend says the very day of Narnia's Creation, a wicked creature from another world tried to seize control over those lands. She was gifted with powerful evil magic and it is said she stood up to the Great Lion himself." he reported with a quiet low voice.  
"You are true, Badger." Carus approved.  
The mustelid nodded graciously. Badgers were proud of their memory.  
"But it was ages ago!" a rabbit yelled.  
"Surely this Creature you speak of can't live all this time!" the other one added.  
"I'm not so sure." the centaur said.  
"Then what should we do?" Maybel asked.  
That was the good question to ask. Even if the threat didn't come from a thousand-year witch, or whatever this creature was, the attack against the Apple Tree spoke for itself: the realm was in danger and they couldn't keep this information for them.  
Once again, Valar displayed his wisdom and quick thinking before anyone else could provide the beginning of an answer.  
"We should send a message to Cair Paravel. The Queen must be warned."  
Carus took a step forward.  
"I will write a letter as soon as I'll be home."  
It was in the eventuality of such a day his family had been appointed.  
"And I will bring it to Cair Paravel." the Raven spoke with his croaking voice. "My wings are strong. I can be there by dusk."  
"Thank you, Master Raven." Valar greeted. "As for us, I think we should set a watch up. Nobody must come near the Apple Tree. We don't know if the dose of venom will be lethal, but we must make sure no one can reiterate the injection."  
The animals –badger, rabbits and sparrow– nodded, resolute. Then the centaurs turned to the dryad.  
"Azaviel, maybe you and your sisters could try to cure the tree. You must know a few remedies…"  
The dryad's sad expression wasn't that much convinced. She nodded any way.  
"I will try."  
And as absurd as it seemed given the circumstances, Carus felt a powerful wave of hope growing in his chest.

***

The next day, despite all the dryads’ efforts, the black poison had reached the lower branches of the Apple Tree and some leaves were turning a sickly yellow. Carus, Valar, his son Mura and the others, as well as a few foxes and does, had relieved each other all night and day. Nobody had approached the tree and yet, it continued to weaken.  
The centaur had asked a few questions around but it had led to nothing. The poisoning must have occurred at night, since the tree was perfectly well the day before Carus discovered it. But the inhabitants weren’t very suspicious. They couldn’t remember anything useful.  
The third day, all leaves fell on the ground. When Carus lightly brushed the bark with his shaking fingers, it melted and oozed a sticky stinking fluid. His heart sank in his chest. The tree was dying and there was nothing they could do to prevent it.  
Eventually, the faun received a short note from Cair Paravel, reading their warning had been received, which wasn’t exactly an answer. But the Raven told him not to worry too much: apparently the craven attack against the Apple Tree coincided with bad news from the North. Cair Paravel was now the epicentre of a frenzy that threatened to spread in all the kingdom. It was most probable both events pointed in the same direction.  
The fourth day, frost like nobody had ever known in Narnia swooped on the woods. The small folks awakened that morning, frozen in their beds. Outside, ice crystals adorned every leaf, every twig, every stone. Blown by freezing gusts of wind, clouds were piling up in the sky, heavy with promises of snow. Carus looked at all of this eyes open wide. Maybel perched on his shoulder the instant he was out. Her little talons scratched his skin.  
“I’m sorry.” the bird said, shivering. “My legs are frozen.”  
Carus ran to the Apple Tree, the sparrow swaying on his shoulder.  
Azaviel the cherry dryad was already there. Her long silvery blond hair was dishevelled. She turned to him. There were tears in her eyes.  
The Apple Tree was dead.  
The words flew between them. The moment later, Carus’ arms were full of a crying dryad as a sparrow was comfortingly warbling.  
“What a charming sight.”  
They startled and turned their heads.  
A tall woman –the tallest Carus had ever seen, though he hadn’t seen a lot of them– was standing between the trees. Her skin was white as snow, as were her clothes cut in thick furs. She had long blond hair gathered in a heavy braid and she wore a golden crown. She was beautiful. Deadly beautiful. Her features seemed to be carved in marble and were almost as cold and unapproachable. A pale blue light glided over her face, glittering like a thin layer of ice. It came from her wand, Carus noticed, a long delicate golden wand ending in a slender crystal claw.  
She was so imposing the faun didn’t noticed at first she wasn’t alone. But a black dwarf, a small one, with a red woollen hat stood next to her, a nasty look in his eyes. Dark shadows were lurking behind them in the half-light of the undergrowth. Carus realised they were everywhere, slowly surrounding them. An army.  
“Who are you?” he asked, with more confidence than he really felt.  
He held Azaviel tightly, as to protect her from the dangerous apparition. But the woman ignored him, coming near the dead Apple Tree. Its branches were all crooked, its trunk was rotting and the ground around was soiled with the strange and sticking fluid seeping from it. Carus’ heart ached when he thought about the glorious spectacle it once had been.  
A poisonous smile appeared on the woman’s face when she touched the dead trunk of the Apple Tree. The faun didn’t thought she was beautiful any more when he saw that smile.  
“Well… Good riddance!” she chuckled. “Did you really think this miserable tree would suffice to stop me?”  
She wasn’t speaking to them, Carus understood, then to whom?  
“We asked who are you?” a deep voice repeated.  
The faun didn’t glance over his shoulder, reluctant to lose sight of the woman, even for a short instant. He had recognised Valar’s voice and he knew he was no longer alone.  
The woman ignored him as well. She lightly waved her wand and the crystal tip touched the Apple Tree. Dumbstruck, Carus saw the tree he looked after since his childhood turning into stone with a creaking sound.  
The instant later, the witch waved her wand again and the petrified remains of the tree exploded in deafening commotion. Carus closed his eyes, curling up over the dryad to protect her as well as himself from the heavy dust and the sharp fragments of stone that passed through the air. He heard screams of pain and horror. He realised a bit later he was screaming too.  
When the dust cloud subsided, the witch was gloriously standing in a setting of destruction, untouched. Nothing remained of the magical shield the Apple Tree had been but pieces of heavy grey stones.  
“Who I am?” she said. “I think it’s quite obvious.”  
She smiled her terrible smile that made her eyes twinkle with perversity and anticipation.  
“I am your Queen.”


End file.
